Consulting Detectives
by Nixi Stasia
Summary: I needed something to cure my Professor Layton writer's block. Sherlock Holmes and discovered that he is not the world's only Consulting Detective- and even worse, it looks as if the Professor may be better than him at the job.


**AN: I don't own Professor Layton, Layton Brothers or Sherlock BBC. **

**Just a little idea thingy-ma-bob that seemed to keep on bugging me! :)**

* * *

Consulting Detectives

"Thank you ever so much, Father," Alfendi Layton said to the Professor as he walked him back down into the reception of Scotland Yard. "I hate to admit it, but this case did have me rather stumped."

"Not at all," the Professor shook his head with a smile, "How could a Gentleman turn down the offer to help his son. Besides, until now, we've never worked on a case together, and I must say, I rather enjoyed doing so."

"As did I," the younger man agreed, brushing his deep crimson hair out of his face, "I'll be sure to ask for your assistance the next time I'm in need of it." Alfendi nodded down as he offered his hand out to his Father for him to shake. As much as himself and his Father got along, a handshake was the most intimacy either had come across between each other.

"And I shall do the same," the Professor promised, shaking his son's hand firmly. "IN fact, the next time my assistance is required, whether it be here or somewhere else, I'll be certain to come to you."

"Ah, and I hope for that to be soon, Father," Alfendi smiled pleasantly, "But for now, I must leave you. I'll have to call the criminal in and their interrogation and most certain arrest, I will have rather a lot of paperwork to sort through. But how about we meet for dinner tomorrow? I've promised to take Lucy for dinner tomorrow, but I think it's time for you to meet her."

A wide smile spread across the top-hatted Gentleman's face. "I'd be delighted! And it just so happens, I have nothing planned tomorrow evening. Where do you propose we-"

"Ah, Inspector Layton! There you are!"

The Professor and the Inspector jumped and turned around to see two men walking towards them. The taller of the men, who appeared to be the one who had spoken, wore a long black coat and had a short black, curly hair to match. He had a stern glance, which made his sharp cheekbones stand out even more, and yet, even more so when he clearly _forced _a smile and the Inspector.

Behind him, walked a much smaller man, who although looked rather intrigued and curious, he also seemed to be rather embarrassed by his friend's, if that was who he was, loud announcement that had interrupted the Professor and the Inspector's conversation. He stood up straight, however kept his hands in the pockets of a beige jacket.

"Ah, Mr Holmes," Alfendi greeted, forcing a warm smile- also forced, "A pleasure to see you. What can I do for you today? Would you like permission to make your way to the post-mortem department? Some files, perhaps?"

"Not at all, Inspector Layton," Mr Holmes replied with slight agitation, "I heard you needed assistance on a case. I'm simply here as always, to offer my assistance."

"Oh, well I must apologise for wasting your time, Mr Holmes," Alfendi shook his head, "But I called upon my Father here to assist me with the case. After all, your, err, housekeeper said you were out and would be for at least the next few days. This case needed attention as soon as possible, you see."

"Yes, yes, all very well," Mr Holmes snapped, turning to glance at the the Professor, looking him up and down, wrinkling his nose, "An archaeology Professor helped with a case of tracking down a serial killer, which clearly was the financial advisor, by the way. Just incase the _archaeology _Professor hadn't figured it out."

"Well, yes, Mr Holmes," the Professor quickly said, trying to avoid an argument, "Now, I see my son here as told you about me. My name's Professor Hershel Layton, it's a pleasure to meet you." He greeted, holding out his hand.

Mr Holmes ignored the hand the Professor had extended and snorted. "Inspector Layton hasn't told me a thing about you."

"No...?" The Professor raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued, "Then may I ask how you know...?"

"But of course," Mr Holmes replied immediately with a smug grin, just as the Professor was certain he heard the younger of the two men groan, "God, Sherlock, not here."

"Well, you're top hat clearly shows an indication of a job in the academic community," Mr Holmes began, as what seemed to be his assistant rolled his eyes and looked away. "However, not a teacher in a Primary or Secondary school- you don't look as if you could stand to be around infants and adolescents- so a Professor. On the cuff of your right sleeve is a mark of dust that appears to be from a fossil. Of course, you could be a Geologist, but you're dressed far too sophisticated for one of those, which narrows it down to archaeology."

The Professor blushed slightly. "Well, Mr Holmes, was it? That was rather impressive. I must say, you got all of that exactly correct," he beamed, "However, I can't say I can see your profession from your attire. Are you a member of the Police force, perhaps?"

Mr Holmes scoffed and the smaller man elbowed him in the ribs.

"No, don't be ridiculous," Mr Holmes frowned inwardly, "I'm a Consulting Detective. I doubt you've heard of the job. After all, I'm the only one in the world."

"Ah, I see, good Sir," the Professor nodded, "And what exactly does this job entail?"

"Well, when the Police are out of the depth, which is _always," _Mr Holmes paused there and turned to face a frowning Alfendi and gave him a polite grin. Of course, it didn't come across as polite at all, but it appeared that Mr Holmes didn't know any better. "They come to me and I help them out."

The Professor beamed. "What do you know? That's just what I do, too!" He nodded with a modest pride, "I help out here when I can."

A flustered shade of red blazed across Mr Holmes' cheeks and he shook his head, seemingly speechless for several seconds.

"Yes, but I doubt that you're anywhere near as good as me," he scoffed, "Besides, myself and John must be making our way to the morgue now."

"W-we are?" the shorter of the two men, who must have been John, looked up, after having clearly lost himself in the amusement of the conversation. "Oh, right, yes." He shook himself into sense.

"Yes, of course," the Professor said. He had to stop himself from asking why they were to visit a morgue of all places, but when he thought about it, he decided that perhaps it was best if he didn't. "It was a pleasure to meet you, good Sir."

Then, with a wave of a hand, Mr Holmes and John turned and walked away. Once they were out of the doors and out of earshot, Alfendi let out a chuckle. Frowning slightly, the Professor turned to look at his son.

"What is it, dear boy?" He questioned, his eyebrows furrowed.

"Oh, nothing, Father," the Inspector waved his hand dismissively, "I'd just always wondered what would happen if you two were to meet."

* * *

**AN: The writing was nowhere near my best. This was a mere writers block cure. **

**Reviews will make me smile! :D **

**X**


End file.
